Wednesday allergy

I have made an interesting discovery. . . I am allergic to Wednesday (the cat, not the day -- then again, maybe the day as well).

The past few times I've visited Okia's apartment to see Weds, barely three minutes pass before my eyes start to itch and I develop a fit of sneezing. The first time this happened, I thought it was just a coincidence. But after the second, third time, I'm convinced that it's not.

But how could it be? I lived with the little guy for a year-and-a-half! Sigh. I guess now, my visits will have to be confined to under three minutes -- which would probably suit Weds just fine -- he's going through an anti-human (or maybe it's just an anti-Ini) phase.

Anyway, it's been a while since my last Weds photo, so here's one.

Sweet reunion:)

Weds and me!
Weds had an identical red tent that I couldn't bring with me. Okia and I went to Ikea (Okia went to Ikea. . . heehee) this weekend to buy my furniture (more on that later) and lo and behold. . . there was the red tent! So Okia bought it, took it home and promptly installed the little guy in it. Looks like he missed it too!
Pensive Weds!

Brunch and a visit to Meiji Shrine

Today dawned drizzly and dismal, but Okia and I stuck to our guns and met for brunch near Omate Sando, an area of the city lined with designer stores. After foregoing Japanese cuisine for coconut french toast with almond butter (yummmm! So much for my lofty goals of a healthier lifestyle after moving to Japan:S) we marched around some of the stores, window shopping and catching up on the past year, and comparing notes on Wednesday, Okia's cat who was under my custody until a couple of months ago . We then decided on a quick visit to the Meiji Shrine, a Shinto place of worship located within a beautiful wooded area, a real surprise in this city where space is at such a premium. We made it back just in time for the 4:00 service at Tokyo Union Church where I bid Okia farewell.

Below are some photos of the shrine:

Barrels of Sake on the way to the shrine. . . an offering?
The shrine itself
The shrine
A man sitting near the entrance to the shrine. . . not sure what he was doing.

Japanese lessons--for me and Weds

Ohayo! Hajime mashite! Arigato gozaimasu for stopping by my blog. *

That's right. . . after 18 hours of Japanese classes over two weekends, I am now fluent! Haha. . . if only. I can make perfectly useless statements like Biji-san wa doyobi ni tomodachi to restoran de chiso pizza o ni-mai tabemachita (Mr. Biji ate two small pizzas in a restaurant with his friend on Saturday). . . I am hopeful, though, that the ability to compose such a sentence will be useful--maybe I will write a childrens' book on the Adventures of Biji-san!

And I am in the process of imparting all my Japanese wisdom to Weds, who will be flying off to Tokyo all by his big-boy-self in less than two weeks to join Okia. I am a firm believer in the notion that practice makes perfect-- so all our conversations now are strictly in Japanese. I think he's picking it up quite quickly too--I can tell by his responses that he really does have a knack for languages. His meowing sounds distinctly Japanese.

So am I going to miss my little substitute for human companionship (as Nev has taken to calling him)? Yes. Am I going to forget that he's left and go peeking under my couch and behind my bed when he doesn't answer my call? I'm afraid so. Am I going to be sad when he doesn't come trotting in, meowing seriously and insistently at me when I turn off the shower every morning? Very much so. But let's not go there yet. Let's focus instead on my efforts to making him bi-lingual!

*Hello! How do you do? Thank you very much for stopping by my blog.

Weds at two months old, about a month after Okia, my roommate then, brought him home











Weds a few months ago
















Weds and me! (yes, he does sit and sleep like a human being)

Temporary bliss

On Saturday, I decided I was going to clean. My apartment was sufficiently covered in cat hair, my sink was sufficiently full of dirty dishes, and my pile of laundry was sufficienty daunting. So, after much hemming and hawing, I decided to finally whip out the hand vac and broom, the cleaning fluid, my pile of laundry quarters, and get to work.

The good thing though, is that once I get started, I go all out. So it was that, three hours later, I had vacuumed, swept, and scrubbed till every corner of my apartment was clean and shiny, and my laundry was spinning contentedly in the dryer.

I showered, made some spicy chai, helped myself to some frozen Fig Newtons, lit an apple cinnamon candle and the scented oil burner, and sat down to enjoy my newly (albeit temporarily) sparkling home. I popped in a "Law and Order: SVU" DVD (not exactly fitting with the whole bliss theme, but it happened to be next on my Netflix list) and sat down to enjoy the lack of mess. Weds clambered onto a cushion on the other couch, settled himself comfortably, and looked just as ready to do the same.

And enjoy we did--until my first sneeze. Followed by another. And another. Now, believe it or not, I STILL DON'T HAVE HEAT!! As I had been moving around earlier, my body had been sufficiently warm. But, as soon as I sat down, the cold hit. And so it was that at the end of a few hours, I was reduced to a sneezing, sniffling mess, surrounded by tissues and shivering like a leaf under my blanket. I was sure that a good night's sleep would do the trick.

But I woke up yesterday, still freezing, still sneezing and sniffling. And even Weds couldn't hold back a sneeze--and a mighty one at that, for such a wee nose.

I think a lawsuit may be in the making if my heat isn't turned on in the next couple of days.

A blissful Weds

Weds' Thanksgiving

All though Thanksgiving weekend in Atlanta, I kept telling Nev, "I hope the cat is alive when I get back," and "If he's alive, I hope the cat hasn't trashed my apartment."

I had good reason to be worried. I'd poured him enough water to last, I hoped, the four days I'd be away. But he'd splashed half of it out before I even left, and I was having nightmares that I'd return to find him flat on the floor, parched and panting, at best. And if that hadn't happened, he usually tore apart anything he laid his paws on when I was home. I couldn't imagine what he might do left to his own devices for days.

So it was with a fair bit of apprehension that I opened the door to my apartment yesterday. "Wednesday," I called out. No answer, and no excited cat came bounding up. That was unusual. A feeling of dread came over me. "Wednesday," I called again, as I walked in, my suitcase forgotten outside. I made my way through the apartment, peering under the couch, looking on top of the fridge, peeking into his little tent--all his favorite hiding places. But no cat.

Then I heard mewing, pitiful and scared. "Wednesday?"

The mewing grew louder, and I realized it was coming from inside. . . my bedroom.

My heart froze. I rushed to my bedroom and flung the door open. Weds sprinted past me. I stared at him in shock, and at the mess covering the floor. The items from the top of my dresser and nighstands were on the floor, the trash can's contents spilled, and drawers stood open. The curtain covering my window had collapsed, and bits of cat puke were on the bed and floor.

"How did you get in here?" I demanded of Weds. He mewed back, and rubbed himself against my legs. In my utter confusion, one thing was clear--I vividly remembered shutting the bedroom door, and seeing Weds in the living room as I left the apartment. And he had used his litterbox--so he couldn't have been locked inside my bedroom the entire time.

Then I thought, "Someone broke in and locked Weds in the room." This was too much. The confusion, the thought of someone else in my home, and the mess in my bedroom overcame me, and I collapsed in tears. I recovered after a few mintues, and looked through all the drawers, but nothing seemed to be missing.

I sighed, went back out to retrieve my suitcase, and set about cleaning up the mess. I was still confused, but Weds seemed completely untraumatised, and I managed to calm down.

As the day went on, my confusion lifted. I kept shutting the bedroom door only to find it open a few minutes later, and the industrious little feline sitting serenely inside. I examined the doorknob, and the answer dawned on me. I had hung a couple of bags on the doorknob before I left, and realized that when I turned it to open the door, the weight of the bags kept it that way. So, when I shut the door, the doorknob didn't turn back to secure the door, which allowed Weds to push it open. I realized that, once inside, he must have playfully pushed the door shut, and was then unable to get out.

The mystery was solved, and I thought no more of it. Until today, when I told The Rock the short version of the story--the cat somehow locked himself into my bedroom. "Wow," The Rock responded. "That must have stunk like crazy."

"Actually, no," I told him. "I think he may only have been inside for a couple of days."

"A couple of days is enough," he replied, laughing.

"Hmmm," I said. That was true. If he'd been inside for any length of time, the damage would have been much worse. So I guess he let himself in, or at least locked himself in, the previous night. Thank God for small mercies.

A morning toe ritual

Weds and I have a little ritual we perform every morning. (I don't let him sleep in my room at night, for fear that I'll wake up the next morning minus parts of my feet, which he has a penchant for nibbling on).

I get out of bed, walk to the door, and stick my toes out through the half-inch space between the door and the floor. He sleeps just outside the door, so I know he's there. I wait only about a second before I feel a gentle furry nudge, as it dawns on him -- every day -- that the seemingly disjointed toes are actually a part of my anatomy. He excitedly prods at my toes for a bit, enjoying this unexpected diversion, before starting to nibble on them.

Some days, the ritual is slightly different. If I'm moving around in my room, it's not very long before a little white paw sneaks in under the door. I often respond by placing my foot on top of the paw, at which point, a second paw shoots out from under the door, ecstatic at having received a response to his seeking. I play footsie with the two bodiless paws for a bit, before giving in and opening the door.

In either scenario, what follows next is always the same -- the little guy is lying by the door stretched out contentedly, enjoying this game -- and he seems just as excited by it each morning, as if playing it for the first time every time. As soon as I open the door, he gets up, and trots in, rubbing himself against my legs and purring in contented glee.

And I invariably start my day in a good mood, smiling widely, always amazed by how little it takes to make the little guy happy.

Mr. Wednesday has left the building :(

Wednesday has moved to Yale University, New Haven, Connecticut. He was supposed to go to Japan with Okia, so I guess New Haven isn't so bad. Plus, he's going to come live with me after two months!

Okia didn't realize that Weds needed some shots and a test that has to be done six months after the shots before the Japanese authorities will let him in. I offered to take him for that time, but it turns out, one of my roommates for the summer is allergic to cats. So, after appealing to the entire J-school, and getting no commitments, she sent Weds home with a friend of hers who happened to be visiting from Yale at the time when all this unraveled.

So, Weds has gone from one Ivy to another and, when I move out of my summer apartment and into my own place afterwards, God-willing, he'll be my roommate until January. After which, he will head off for new adventures in Tokyo.

A little family on my window-sill

Everyday for the past couple of months, I've woken up to the sound of pigeons cooing outside my window. They make quite a racket. . . at least two of them, flying up and down, alighting on the air conditioner, making enough noise to wake the dead. One day wondering why they kept coming back, I peered down under my air conditioner . . . to find that they had made themselves quite at home there -- they'd built themselves a tidy little nest.

But over the past two days, the sounds have changed. I've been hearing higher pitched chirping in addition to the huskier cooing, and the chirps are even more constant and insistent. At first I thought it was just other birds flying around, and alighting outside my window for some sort of bird conference. But I lifted the blind this morning and peered out to see . . . little baby pigeons in the nest chirping away.

Trying to teach our little feline something about other species, I picked him up, took him to the window and pointed to the nest. "Look, Weds, tiny little birdies!" But, although he has been fascinated by the sounds and stands staring at my air conditioner for hours, he didn't realize that the sounds were coming from OUTSIDE. He looked up and down and all around -- everywhere but down where the birds were. . . until I put him down, when he resumed staring at the AC in undisguised fascination. Sigh!

Anyway, it's quieted down now. The parents are away finding food. Looks like I'm baby-sitting:)

Wed's other personality emerges

On Friday, after my plans with Bobbis, Ficali et al. fell through, I settled down with Okia, Mits and Le Dernier Mot to watch the Ms. USA pagent (yes yes I know). LDM was bringing her own girl kitten, ACE (she and Okia found ACE, a little frightened kitten, on the A-C-E subway line, hence the name), and Okia and I were excited at the prospect of reuniting Weds and ACE, who hadn't played together since they were wee little babies. The two have been fixed, so we even entertained the possibility of some romance between them without any undesirable consequences. But it was not to be.

Weds was in the living room, terrorizing poor Mits (he was just being his usually friendly self, you know, but Mits, traumatized as he was by a dog bite when he was little, doesn't take too kindly to friendly animals) when LDM and ACE arrived. LDM let little ACE out of her bag, and we all played with her a bit. I went off to the living room to fetch Weds to re-introduce him to his old friend. He sat serenely as I picked him up and walked down the hallway -- that is, until his eyes landed on ACE. Our little angel instantly turned into a monster. He hissed and snarled, leaped out of my arms, and fled for dear life back to the living room at one end of the hallway. Poor ACE, flustered by this unexpected reaction on the part of her host, sadly scurried off in the opposite direction, deposited herself in between my boxes at the other end of the hallway and refused to emerge all evening long.

Weds refused to come round as well. The spent the evening hiding under the chair, behind the TV, making not a peep (afraid, probably, that any sound he made would be mistaken by his unwelcome guest for a sign of friendliness). Feeling sorry for him at one point, I picked him up and held him in my lap. He sat quietly, but always with a wary eye on the other side of the corridor, where Okia and LDM were, playing with ACE for a bit. As soon as he saw them walking back, he started squirming again, assuming that they were bringing his enemy with them, and only calmed down when he realized that ACE was, in her quiet, demure way, as stubborn as him, and still firmly lodged in between the boxes.

The evening ended, with our hopes for a joyful reunion between the two of them dashed. As Okia, LDM and I were lamenting this, LDM looked on the bright side. "Oh well, I guess it's for the best. Because otherwise, ACE would have been heartbroken when Weds leaves for Japan next month." True, I suppose.

I still gave Weds a stern talking to about his manners and his abominable treatment of his guest after they left, but I'm sure it didn't make much of an impression on our fiesty little feline -- who incidentally, was back to his playful, friendly little self as soon as ACE departed.

Okia and I had thought that Weds was becoming a moody teenager -- because of his occasional penchant for climbing to the top of the highest cabinets in the kitchen and pointedly ignoring us when the mood took him. But I suppose he's still in the pre-teen stage, where girls = eeeewww!

With apologies to the Bart. . .

Ok, I know I'm dangerously close to becoming the crazy cat lady. . . but I had to put these up. I only have the little guy with me for two more months, so have to gather as much evidence of the "awwwww" moments as possible before then. . .

Good night. . . it's time for my
beauty sleep. . .


Look what they're selling in shoe stores now
. . . apparently he's an 8W!

Life changes for a little guy. . .

Weds has found himself a new home. . .






















. . .and a new best friend

More weds pics!

Nev told me that you can't tell from the pic of Weds that he's a baby, so here are a couple more pics. I need to stop this. I'm like one of those spinsters whose lives revolve around their cats! And he's not even my cat!!

My first digi cam pics!

My brand new digi cam (not the best but second best, which I can live with :-)) has arrived, and here are some of the inaugural pics. These ones are of my friend Emstenm my roommate Okia and little Wednoo. More pics to come :-)


Wednesday

My roommate Okia and Emsten at Jackson Diner, an Indian restaurant, in Jackson Heights, Queens

Emsten

Just looking at these pics and comparing them with the ones below made me realise how blessed I am. A true wake-up call.

Kitty corner. . .

After spending the entire afternoon on my beat, trying to talk to people who love to gripe, but not to let their gripes be attributed to them; three hours on the subway; an hour at the gym; a couple of hours rewatching My Big Fat Greek Wedding; and about an hour on my post on Talabani's speech, which took an inordinate amount of time for a blog post; I'm ready to go to bed.

But guess who has - after darting about the apartment the entire afternoon and evening with more energy than I can muster even after three double espressos - decided to clamber into my lap and go to sleep. What to do? Wait till the little guy wakes up, or unceremoniously deposit him outside my room, shut the door and go to sleep? I'm actually feeling quite charitable towards him, despite the fact that he's been chewing on my toes, and digging his claws into me every opportunity he gets. Maybe I'll just twiddle my thumbs till he decides to wake up, and then kick him out. . . then again, maybe not. . .

Baby bloopers

Something pretty darned disgusting happened to me today. And I've been feeling completely grossed out all day.

My roommate got a little kitten two weeks ago. Well, he's technically hers, but he's kind of adopted us. He's absolutely adorable, with a tiny pink nose and a little pink mouth. He has soft black fur, a strip of white down his chest and little white gloves and socks, that makes him look like a butler in a tailcoat. .

But the most adorable part is the way he falls asleep. One minute, he's completely hyper, running around, and the next thing you know, he's fallen over, asleep. Once he started walking somewhere, and fell asleep mid-stride! I suspect we've got a narcoleptic cat on our hands. And the way he sleeps. Sometimes, he sleeps on his stomach, absolutely flat, with his four paws spreadeagled in four different directions. Other times, he sleeps on his back, with his chest and belly up, looking remarkably like a human baby.

He loves being around people, and is constantly jumping onto our shoulders and laps, climbing up our legs, looking into our eyes and mewing softly. And biting everything, from fingers and toes, to earrings to watches.

He is absolutely irresistible, so, even though he had an "accident" - the big kind - on my roommate's rug, and a little one on my other roommate's bed, I haven't had the heart to shut him out of my room when he comes bounding up to me on his tiny legs every time I open the door.

This morning, I saw something dark-coloured in a corner of my room where the light didn't fall very well. I thought it was a piece of dark paper. I went to pick it up, and as my finger made contact with it, something unexpected happened. My fingers went right through it. Realising too late what it was, I withdrew my hand in horror, and rushed to the bathroom to scrub my hands clean over and over. Little Wednesday had done it again - the big job, in my room! I learned my lesson.

Cursing him, I cleaned up his mess, trying not to get sick and make a bigger mess of my own. I let him know in no uncertain terms that I was not very pleased with him, shut my door loudly when he tried to get in, and left the apartment.

The feeling on my fingers stayed with me, and everytime I ate, I was aware that the same fingers I was eating with had touched something else. But, when I came back home, he came running up to me again, and dashed into my room, as soon as I opened my door. What could I do? He's such a baby, and it breaks my heart to be mean to him. I let him in, promising myself that he could only be in the room when I was there with him. And my method of keeping him out of my room? Staying out of it myself! So, here I am, in the living room, with the door to my room shut tight. And the little guy's climbed onto my lap as I'm writing this, and squeezed himself into the tiny bit of space left by my laptop, and is chewing on my thumb - but only after I checked to make sure that he was clean, and that there were no unwanted substances on any part of his anatomy. I'm just hoping that there are no accidents now!

One thing I know - I'm going to adopt a child when he or she is at least three years old - so that these kind of mishaps don't happen. I can't deal with a kitten. A real baby that I have to clean up after is out of the question!